


For Better (For Worse)

by giantteenwolforgy



Series: Gimme All Your Lovin' [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, SO MUCH FLUFF, Single Parent Derek, Single Parent Stiles, UST, child!Lydia, child!scott
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-23
Updated: 2014-04-23
Packaged: 2018-01-20 13:17:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1511903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/giantteenwolforgy/pseuds/giantteenwolforgy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Dude," Stiles snorts as Derek climbs to his feet, smiling tiredly. "Don’t you think this is moving a little bit fast? I mean, we aren’t even <i>dating</i>.”</p>
<p><i>We could be</i>, Derek wants to say.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Better (For Worse)

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [For Better (For Worse)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1961298) by [meanwhile](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meanwhile/pseuds/meanwhile)



“ _Stiles_ ,” Derek says again, grimacing as his knee sinks further into wet grass. He brandishes the ring impatiently in the air. “What do you say? Will you do me th—”

“ _And me!_ " Lydia prompts from behind him. 

He sighs, but corrects himself. “Will you do me  _and Lydia_  the honor of marrying…” he spares a quick glance at his daughter, “us?” 

Stiles looks like he’s three seconds away from bursting into laughter and ruining Lydia’s whole life, but a warning glare from Derek makes him straighten up and loudly proclaim: “Of course I will marry you both!”

There’s a brief moment of stunned silence before Lydia and Scott begin to cheer (read: screeching at the top of their lungs and startling a flock of birds out of a nearby tree), and they run off towards the swing set almost immediately after, too excited to stand still. 

"Dude," Stiles snorts as Derek climbs to his feet, smiling tiredly. "Don’t you think this is moving a little bit fast? I mean, we aren’t even  _dating_.”

_We could be,_ Derek wants to say. He settles for: “Yeah, sorry about that. You—you don’t actually have to put the ring on—Stiles,  _stop_. That’s going to get stuck.”

He quits trying to force the ring past his knuckle and looks up, giving an over-dramatic gasp as he sways forward into Derek’s space. Derek puts out an arm automatically to steady him, going almost cross-eyed as he tries to keep Stiles’s face in focus. “You mean you  _don’t_  want to marry me?” he cries. Derek rolls his eyes. “This was a  _fake_  proposal? My heart is broken!”

"Shut up," Derek huffs. "You knew."

"Maybe I forgot," he shoots back.

"I texted you  _this morning_  to tell you the plan.” 

"You said:  _Lydia wants me to marry you. If you say no I’ll kill you._  I wasn’t exactly expecting the whole entire proposal situation.” He pauses, wrinkling his nose. “And I don’t think a plastic Sleeping Beauty ring actually merits a  _death threat._ ”

"Lydia wanted it to match her ‘flower girl dress,’" Derek recites dutifully, gesturing to pink monstrosity of frills she had insisted on wearing today. "And it wasn’t a real death threat. I knew you’d say yes."

"Oh really?" he asks, eyebrow arching.

"You  _like_  me.”

He intends it to be a joke, but the smirk on Stiles’s face falters in the sunlight and he goes back to fiddling with the ring. “Yeah, I kind of do,” he says softly after a moment, and Derek physically feels his lungs seize up in his chest. 

"Be careful!" he blindly calls out to Lydia as he turns away from Stiles, desperate for anything that might distract him from the way his heart is pounding. His cheeks pink up when he sees that Lydia isn’t doing anything but standing next to Scott and watching him dig a hole. Stiles snorts from next to him, like he knows exactly what Derek was trying to do. 

"Shut up," he says again. 

"You got bullied into a proposal by a six year old," Stiles says, elbow nudging gently into Derek’s ribs. "I will never shut up about that."

"And  _that_  is why I don’t want to marry you,” Derek says impassively, mouth twitching slightly. 

Stiles’s jaw drops open, bottom lip heavy and full. “You’re such an asshole,” he says, but it lacks any heat whatsoever, so Derek just smiles. 

***

They go out for lunch when the kids tire of being outside. 

Derek doesn’t even realize that Stiles managed to get the ring on his pinky finger until Kira comes over to say hi to them and he shows it off to her—making Lydia positively preen in her seat. 

Derek attempts to kick him under the table (because the whole point was to appease her and then let her  _forget about it_ ) but Stiles just traps Derek’s foot between his own and winks at him. 

Which. 

That doesn’t fluster him, okay, it  _doesn’t_. 

The reason he doesn’t even realize that Kira’s offered to bring them free milkshakes to ‘celebrate’ until Scott almost falls off the booth in excitement is because he’s too busy trying to free his foot from the vice grip Stiles has around it. 

"They don’t need the sugar," he tells Stiles, giving up on getting his foot back anytime soon.

Stiles ignores him and asks Lydia what her favorite flavor is.

Derek decides that he’s a horrible influence.

Stiles lets his foot go around the same time the food arrives, but Derek doesn’t even bother moving it away. It’s stupid, he  _knows_  it’s stupid, but there’s something nice about having the contact.

Stiles catches his eye after a minute and smiles, tapping his ankle softly with the toe of his sneaker. 

Derek ducks his head. 

Stiles steals one of his french fries. 

***

"But you’re  _married_ ,” Lydia says again, lips forming a perfect pout. “That means me and Scott can play together all the time!”

"Yeah!" Scott chimes in, eyes wide and sad. Derek can  _feel_  Stiles melting beside him. “Dad,” he sniffs, “I want to keep playing with Lydia.”

"No," Derek tells Lydia, at the same time that Stiles sighs: "Alright, buddy."

They perk up immediately. 

“ _Stiles_ —” Derek groans. 

"He said yes!" Lydia says shrilly. "That means we  _have_  to go over to Scott’s house and play. It’s the law!”

"It’s not the law," Derek tries. 

"It’s matr—materimo—matriculamonia law!"

"Yeah, what she said!" Scott shouts.

"Matrimonial law?" Stiles asks, barely concealing his amusement. 

"Yeah!"

"How did you learn that word?" Derek asks. 

"I read a book,  _Daddy_ ,” she says imperiously. Stiles chokes on a laugh. “Maybe you can read it when we go to Scott’s house.”

Derek’s nostril’s flare. “Fine,” he relents. “But Stiles and I aren’t really married Lydia, so after today we go back to regular playtime.”

"I know that," she scoffs. "I’m not a dumbo. You have to  _kiss_  to be married for real.”

Christ. His kid.

Derek feels the back of his neck burning even as he rounds on Stiles. “You’re such a push-over,” he grumbles.

"Says the guy who proposed to me," Stiles points out, swinging his jeep’s keys around on a finger. "Besides," he says, voice considerably lower. He leans in closer and a shiver drips down Derek’s spine. "Maybe I just wanted an excuse to have you over for dinner." 

Derek blinks dumbly at him, swallowing ineffectually against the sudden dryness in his throat. 

***

Derek can count the number of times he’s been to Stiles’s house on one hand. 

Sometimes Scott and Lydia have their play-dates here (mostly upon Stiles’s insistence because if Lydia had her way, Scott would always come over to their house to play with her inexhaustible supply of Barbie dolls). Sometimes they go to the park—or the pool if it’s nice enough weather. 

Whatever they do, they’re always back home after lunch. Scott and Lydia have never been subjected to each other for this long before. 

_Derek_  has never been subjected to  _Stiles_  for this long. 

"You can take your shoes off, you know," Stiles says from where he’s sprawled on his couch. 

Derek jumps, turning away from the myriad of family pictures that are comfortably cluttered together on the mantelpiece. There’s one of Scott and Lydia from last Easter, beaming with their faces smashed together. Scott’s wearing bunny ears.  ”Yeah—I. Yeah, okay.”

He clears his throat and toes off his shoes. He hears Scott shout something about aliens.

"So." He turns back towards Stiles.

His head is cocked, resting against the couch cushions, and he’s staring at Derek with a fond smile on his face.

"What," Derek says, looking down at himself. 

"Nothing," Stiles hums. "Just admiring the view."

"You should be looking in a mirror then," Derek mutters, crossing the room to study Stiles’s collection of DVDs. He doesn’t reply right away, and Derek starts to worry he overstepped some line he didn’t know existed. He glances back over at him nervously, but a flush is riding high on Stiles’s cheeks and he’s twisting the princess ring around his pinky finger.

"I’m not blushing," Stiles says lamely, when he sees him looking.

Derek smirks and turns back around. 

"You want to watch a movie?" Stiles asks him after a moment. 

"Sure."

"Pick one. Anything but  _Cars_ ,” he adds. “I fucking hate  _Cars_.”

"Scott going through a race car phase?" Derek snickers. 

"Like you wouldn’t believe."

"At least you don’t have to watch  _Barbie and the Magic of Pegasus.”_

"I would  _pay_  to see you sit through that movie,” Stiles crows, throwing his head back and letting out a laugh.

Derek picks  _Cars_  just to be contrary.

"I hate you," Stiles sighs out. 

"No you don’t."

"No," Stiles agrees, gaze finding Derek’s again. "I don’t."

Derek hesitates, eyes flicking between the couch and the arm chair (that is a respectable distance away from Stiles’s long limbs), but Stiles straightens up and pats the spot next to him and Derek doesn’t even  _try_  to resist. He collapses onto the couch, thigh pressed up against Stiles’s, and Stiles lets his head loll to the side, breath tickling Derek’s neck. 

***

Stiles makes spaghetti for dinner. 

"What do you say?" he asks Derek while he sprinkles some oregano in the sauce. "Want to share a plate?"

Derek raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “That whole noodle-kiss thing only works in animated movies,” he tells Stiles dryly. He’s 85% sure Stiles made spaghetti just so he could make that joke.

"Okay," Stiles says, turning to face him. Derek’s breath hitches because Stiles is a lot closer to his face than he’s used to. "Then do you want to just kiss me?"

Derek’s heart stutters in his chest. 

"I—uh."

Stiles licks his lips, slowly—pointedly and yeah. Yeah, Derek wants to kiss him, he’s so sick of pretending he doesn’t want to—

"Dad, is the food ready?" Scott demands, coming into the kitchen. Lydia’s trailing behind him. "I’m hungry."

Stiles takes a step back and all the air whooshes out of Derek’s lungs. He leans against the counter unsteadily, watching Stiles dish out food and send the kids to the table. 

"Come on," Stiles tells him, holding out another plate. "I’m not fixing a plate for you too."

"I thought we were going to share?" Derek says, forcing his feet to walk forward a few steps. His hands are clumsy, he almost drops the fork Stiles thrusts at him.

"That stuff doesn’t work in movies, remember?" Stiles grins suddenly, biting at his lip. A fizz of excitement bolts through Derek. "But if you want, we can try it later."

"Later," Derek repeats helplessly.

***

Scott and Lydia want to watch a movie after dinner and they all sit together on the sofa, Derek and Stiles on either end. 

Derek doesn’t pay attention to the television—probably couldn’t even tell you what movie was playing if pressed because what happened before dinner is still playing in his head on repeat. 

When the credit’s finally roll, Scott and Lydia are fast asleep and Derek sighs, look across the divide at Stiles (who is already looking back, brown eyes unreadable). 

"We should go," he murmurs. 

"You don’t have to."

Derek’s eyebrow quirks. 

"I’m just saying—" Stiles shrugs. "It’s been a long day. And Scott has room in his bed for Lydia."

Derek groans and lets his head fall back against the couch. “If I let Lydia sleep over, I’ll never hear the end of it. She’ll want to sleep over  _every day_.”

"So tell her no," Stiles snarks out. 

"I can’t."

"You’re so pathetic."

"I know."

Stiles grins, eyes crinkling. “Come on, dude. Stay.”

"I’m not sleeping on the couch," Derek grumbles. 

"No one asked you to." He holds up his left hand, lips twisted in a crooked smile. "We’re  _married_ , remember?”

He swallows, rubs his sweaty palms on the knees of his jeans, meets Stiles’s gaze one more time. 

"Yeah. Okay."

They carry the kids into Scott’s room and tuck them in, turn the Thomas the Train nightlight on. Stiles jerks his head towards the hallway and Derek follows him, hands shoved in his pockets. 

"So," Stiles says sheepishly, as he shuts the door. He doesn’t bother to turn on the light. "This is my bedroom." 

There are a few articles of clothes strewn around the shadowed floor and the bed is half unmade, but it looks comfortable and lived in— 

Derek tears his eyes away from the bed to focus on Stiles, who’s still hovering by the door looking a little nervous.

"You don’t kick in your sleep do you?" Derek asks to break the tension and Stiles rolls his eyes and grins.

"No, but I do sleep naked."

Derek’s next comment dies in his throat.

"Wha—"

"I’m  _kidding_. Jesus. Come on, big guy, let’s boxer-brief it up.”

"Maybe  _I_  sleep naked,” Derek says, mainly to distract himself from the fact that Stiles is stripping off his shirt. He hurries to do the same.

"No complaints here," Stiles makes eye contact with him as he pushes down his jeans and Derek’s heart fucking palpitates. 

Before he can really register the sight of Stiles standing there in nothing but his underwear, he’s climbing into bed and turning down his covers, looking at Derek expectantly and Derek is just—so done with waiting. 

He slides in next to him, rolls over and covers his body with his own, buries his face in Stiles’s neck, and Stiles lets out a little plaintive noise at the feeling of so much bare skin touching. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” he breathes out, arms coming up to wrap around Derek. His fingertips drag across his skin, catching on every nerve. “Fuck, Derek,  I—I want this. With you. In case that wasn’t…obvious.” His voice wavers slightly.

Derek huffs out a laugh in Stiles’s skin and it makes him shiver. “I want this too.”

He punctuates his claim with a dry press of lips to the juncture of Stiles’s neck and shoulder and Stiles’s fingers press into his skin that much harder. 

"Please, just, please get up here and kiss me before I die of blue balls or something."

"You can’t die from blue balls," Derek points out, even as he’s levering himself up. 

"Shut up," Stiles groans and Derek brings his mouth down, fits it over Stiles’s, feels all the tension in his body disappear. 

It’s been so long since he just  _kissed_  someone, since he enjoyed the feel of their body against his, its—

He pulls away and runs a thumb over Stiles’s bottom lip. Stiles’s tongue sneaks out to wet it. 

"I want this," he says again, and Stiles surges up to press another kiss to his lips. 

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to see the lovely anon message that prompted this, you can find that [here](http://giantteenwolforgy.tumblr.com/post/83622459228/omg-tho-sterek-easter-kidfic-with-kid-scott-and).


End file.
